The Story of the Second Son
by skzyp
Summary: A series of short stories told in a narrative format by Bobby to Alex in varation situations. My take on what made him who he is today.
1. A Purpose

**A/N: So I thought I would write my own version of Goren's life leading up to now. I don't think it will be what you're used to, at least its something I don't think I've seen yet so I decided to write it. I will write more little chapters like this where he basically just tells Alex a story from his childhood or just from his life. Lettme know if you think this is a good idea. My second story ever...weee!  
**

**note: the quote about men being oragami creatures is from a Ani Difranco song, and the whole setting of them sitting together like they are is in part inspired by a scene from the movie 'Happy Accidents'. If you've seen it then you'll know what I'm talking about, if you haven't seen it...whats wrong with you? jk.**

**Enjoy.**

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The Story of the Second Son chapter one

A man with a name, a job, a purpose, and a past isn't a complete man until he comes to terms with himself. One can never truly understand oneself but that doesn't stop each of us from trying does it? The past is just as important as anything and dwelling on it doesn't do anyone any good but remembering it and learning from it is the key. Telling someone else your story is a very therapeutic thing.

The key, a key, the key to it all, what that was she knew. It was trust, she had his, and he had hers. Slowly overtime he opened up and it never stopped flowing. One nigh at a night, one story at a time, the whole picture came together.

"_Men are delicate origami creatures that need women to unfold them and hold them when they cry."_

"Where do you want me to start?"

In the dim light they sat together facing each other on his bed. He was shirtless and she the same, the nights previous events weren't the discussion now. Not that there was much to say about that anyway, words couldn't describe, he had tried but failed.

"Start anywhere you want." She drew her finger up to his nose and slowly ran it down his profile then used the back of her hand to wipe some sweat from his brow.

It was a warm summer night; they were sweating this one out, candle flames high, the extra heat just made them focus more intently on each other.

"One of my earliest memories….I was probably 6 and a half. I had finally learned how to ride my bike successfully without falling off, that's probably why I remember not to mention this probably decided my career for me. It was the afternoon, it was warm, and I remember seeing kids playing in the cooling spray coming from the broken fire hydrant. Christopher and I were just riding around and we came across an abandoned lot. Chris wasn't one for doing things that might be wrong, it took me forever to convince him to come in with me. Sure it said 'NO TRESPASSING', but what did I care?

The chain link fence has a break in it so even though he didn't want to go in he held it up for me. Being six I thought all the old green bottles and tires were pretty cool. Chris and I picked up some old rusty pipes and played sword fight. I hated getting the rust on my hands though, mom hated that it got on my clothes. That was when she still noticed those kinds of things.

Anyway, so we wandered around a bit and made our way behind this old tool shed. We found something. Thinking back I think it's what made me become a cop, somehow, somewhere deep in my head it stuck. It was….a body…a kid I had seen around. I don't remember what was done to him, maybe that's because mom and dad didn't want us to know. But I do remember the way his body was just laying there, broken, unmoving, never the same. His eyes were wide open and just staring at me. All I could keep thinking was, "He'll never get to play baseball again, or ride his bike or even do the stupid stuff like brush his teeth."

I hated it so much. For the longest time Chris and I just stared at him. Finally Chris said we should go get help. I watched the police stretch the yellow crime scene tape, I watched them work, and I watched them take the body away.

On some level, as much as a six year old can, I thought about my own mortality and how life shouldn't just be taken away like that. Fairness was always important to me. At school I would always break up the fights trying to get everyone to get along.

But after that I never really complained about having to do the stupid stuff like brushing my teeth and I didn't even really care if I couldn't catch the baseball every time. I was just happy that I could still do those things. I've never forgotten those eyes…"

He laid on his back and felt her stretch out over him. He stroked her back and felt the sweat on her spine. He sighed a little and then closed his eyes.

"Thank you." She whispered in his ear and then she closed her eyes too.


	2. A Family

**a/n: Thank you for the kind reviews, here is the next installment. **

** I'm justa spinning my yarn here...don't mind me at all.  
**

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The Story of the Second Son chapter two

This time they sat together in a coffee shop in Brooklyn, his old stomping ground. They each sat with a small white coffee cup in front of them. It was mid morning but they were still rubbing the sleep from their eyes.

He loved to watch the steam rise from his cup. He put his hand on the table and started to play with a corner of his untouched napkin. Her hand came to rest over his and steadied his hand. He stopped and looked up at her.

"Tell me another one, please." She stroked the top of his hand with hers.

He watched the steam rise off his coffee for a few moments more then began.

"I used to shoot off words at my father, he shot back with silence. That hurt worse than anything he could have said. The indifference and apathy towards what was going on in my life is what struck me, never his hand.

I was about nine then, my mother started to hallucinate about that time. At first it wasn't anything alarming. We would be standing together in the kitchen, my mother and I, and she would ask me.

"Bobby do you smell that wonderful pumpkin pie? Smells delicious don't it?"

Now I knew there was no pie, I couldn't smell anything at all, but I told her that yes it did all the same.

See, those were harmless but then she started to talk to people that weren't there. My brother and I would be in bed, I wouldn't be asleep, I never was a sound sleeper and I would hear my father's car outside. My mother didn't so she just kept on talking to no one. No one I could hear anyway.

I guess my father heard too, he wouldn't come in; instead he would stop and listen outside the front door. It was always late when he came home and he would hear his wife laughing and carrying on with someone in his house. You would almost think he was losing it too, he swore he smelled men's cologne other than his own. But he never said anything to my mother, oh no. Instead he rushed right back out to his car and drove off to spill his jealousy into the first willing or easily persuaded body.

I could smell them on him the next morning at breakfast. Mother seemed none the wiser. I never told her. I doubt she didn't know though. My mother is a very smart woman, the smartest most beautiful, charming, caring person I've ever met.

She kept me company on days when none of the others kids would play with me. When dad would rather play catch with Christopher than me. She worked in a library and she got me started on reading all the time.

Some of her old friends from when she worked at the library still ask me how she's doing when I go in. They've known me since I was old enough to read.

Overall I'd say the good memories out way the bad with my mother.

My father started to go out like he did all the time, whether or not he thought she was still cheating, I don't think it made much of a difference. Somewhere along the line they drifted apart, my mother and father. He blamed himself because he didn't know how to help, he kept distant from us because he just didn't understand how to take care of us, and frankly I think he had lost interest in ever having a happy family again.

I turned eleven and a week after my birthday I was sitting outside a courtroom, it was over for good. After that it's like he never existed, well pretty much. He would come about once a month, at least he did till I was about 16. For fives years he tried to be dad still but he could never get the hang of it. He couldn't hold a job, he was alone and he pretty much refused to pay child support. He was perpetually in a crisis and he liked it that way. He wouldn't allow himself to be happy and he wouldn't allow himself to be normal again. Whatever normal is anyway.

Mom started to get more and more confused. She would leave the oven on, forget to close the fridge. Some days I found her out on front stoop just staring off into space. I'd just bring her back in, turn on the TV for her and go out to roam the streets.

I used to think I drove him away, at first, and then I thought mom did it on purpose to punish me and Chris. When I turned sixteen I started to find my own identity, things started coming together in my head and suddenly I had all the answers. At least that's what I thought at the time. Then I met Lewis.

But that's…for another day."

They finished their coffee and strolled out of the diner towards wherever. It was a Sunday and they had nothing to do but nothing at all.


	3. A Friend

**A/N:** Ok, I'm kinda going in chronilogical order here. The following short poem was written by me for this story, I apologize if it isn't quite up to poetic par. Normally when I write poetry its not from someone else's perspective, although some of the things in the poem do ring true for me. Ah another author putting their own life into their work.

Anyway,** enjoy**.

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The Story of the Second Son chapter 3

"_I must confess, I am filled with loneliness.  
I have spent lots of time considering suicide.  
I have to show you the callus on my hand  
I got it from resting it on my head  
I must tell you that I've reconsidered previous thoughts  
You out-weighed the have-nots  
You are the cause of the callus  
The one I got from resting it on my head  
Thinking about you all the time  
Because of you, I'm not dead  
Stare at me a little longer  
Laugh a little harder  
Love a little faster  
But don't go too soon." _

She folded up the piece of paper she had found taped to her refrigerator and put it in her pocket. He did that a lot, left her notes in unexpected places before he left in the mornings.

Arriving at work she settled down across from him as always. Their case arrived on her desk and she got up and grabbed her coat and keys. He knew the cue and followed suit.

In the parking garage she stopped him before they got into the car.

"Do you want to tell me why you never drive?" she threw the keys at him, he barely caught them.

"I'll only tell you if you drive." He threw the keys back at her; she caught them with one hand and gave him that smile.

He too grinned and got into the passenger seat.

"I'd rather tell you then show you." He said sounding ominous.

She started the car and he started to talk.

"I was about 16 and it was driver's ed at school. Like I told you before after that social adjustment test I had to see the school shrink. Well after that the other kids didn't take too kindly too me. But it turns out I wasn't the only one who had to see the shrink.

They called us 'the white coats', in retrospect it was a pretty good nickname for us but honestly it kind of hurt that they called us that. The 'us' I am talking about is Lewis and I. We met in drivers ed. I crashed the cars and he fixed them. Lewis was kind of like a speed freak but without the speed. He talked fast, worked fast, but the talking fast is what got him in trouble.

If he said the wrong thing to someone bigger than him, I was there to stare them down. In return he gave me friendship, companionship, and a few new windshield installations.

So the first day of drivers ed all the kids knew who had been to the shrink, the new boys standing away from the crowd looking nervous.

They paired Lewis and I together and well, he is a great driver, but I took out a few cones and trashcans and then I sort of nearly crashed into the side of the biology lab.

They tried to teach me to drive but I just never really got the hang of it. That's when Lewis and I started to hang out. He tried to help me learn to drive. Tried being the keyword here.

I was a repeat customer when he started his auto shop; I am probably what helped it get off the ground with all the money I spent there. I mean there are only so many favors you can give out.

We were seventeen when he decided to join the army together but that ended up not working out.

One night we were headed to a party and he let me drive. We didn't make it to the party because I crashed the car into a tree. I wasn't hurt at all for some reason but Lewis tore some muscles in his legs. He couldn't quite run right after that and as far as I know he still can't.

The army wouldn't take him so when we turned eighteen I enlisted and he became an apprentice at an auto shop which he later bought.

So if you ask me why I don't drive, that's why. If you ask me why I can't drive well, I can't explain that one. I just can't."

Arriving at the crime scene she turned off the car and turned towards him.

"If I ever offer you the keys again slap me."

He gave her an agreeing nod and raised his hand to her face and slowly brought it to her cheek. She thought he was going to play slap her but instead he gently stroked the side of her face.

She almost closed her eyes when she heard sirens wailing not too far off in the distance.

Without another word they both stepped out of the car and went to work.


	4. A Soldier's Creed

**A/N: I reliaze it's been forever since I've updated this but I'm like that, I finish things but in my own time. I think it was worth it though, what I've written here is 100 times better than anything I would have forced myself to write months ago. Also I've done tons and tons of research on a thorough timeline that would fit the fictional life of Goren. Some of what I will write next is just speculation but it seems to fit. Proof I have far too much time on my hands. Let me know what you think. **

**p.s. I will finish 'Fun Week' at some point too, sorry again.  
**

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She woke up initially because she lost the warmth of the covers, then she woke up because she realized she had lost the warmth of him. The room was completely dark except for street light streaming in through the half opened blinds over the window. Blinking the sleep away from her eyes she scanned the room her missing heat source.

He was only wearing his plain white boxers while he was going through the top drawer of his dresser. He was looking for something, what she didn't know. "Bobby? Uh, ar…are you awake?"

He didn't respond he just kept digging like mad through his sock drawer. He found an old cigar box and took it out. He stared at it a moment before he opened it and took out something metallic.

Now she was sitting up in bed watching him with interest and a slight bit of concern. At this point she was convinced that he wasn't in fact awake but sleep walking, or something like it.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when after putting the metallic substance around his neck he spun around to face her. Instead of screaming she let out a small gasp of surprise. His eyes were indeed open but focused someone on the wall above her head. His arms were straight at his side, his back ramrod straight and his feet perfectly placed together.

Silence, for a moment or two, silence, forever it seemed until suddenly, "I am an American Soldier! I am a Warrior and a member of a team! I serve the people of the United States and live the Army Values!" he started to shout, his eyes never faltered from their original point of focus.

He continued as she stared in wonder and surprise, "I will always place the mission first! I will never accept defeat! I will never quit! I will never leave a fallen comrade! I am disciplined, physically and mentally tough, trained and proficient in my warrior tasks and drills!"

She swung her legs over the side of his large bed and softly landed on his smooth but very cold wood floor. Carefully she approached him, she had always heard that if you woke someone up whom was sleep walking that they could have violent fits; she was going to take her chances. He still kept going, "I always maintain my arms, my equipment and myself! I am an expert and I am a professional! I stand ready to deploy, engage, and destroy the enemies of the United States of America in close combat! I am a guardian of freedom and the American way of life!"

Finally standing just off to the right but almost directly in front of him she saw the sweat on his brow and on his chest, she could see the intensity in his eyes up close, it was something familiar but not quite. She raised her hand and slowly grasped the cool metal dog tags around his neck, they read: (first line) _Goren, _(second line)_ Robert O, _(third line) _845-67-3906, _(fourth line) _B+, _(fifth line) _Catholic. _

He was breathing heavy but quiet, she let go off his dog tags and just placed her hand, palm down over his heart. He didn't see his eyes change but she felt him wake under her touch. His shoulders slumped and his head fell down so that his eyes would have been cast on the floor if they hadn't been closed tight. He sighed a big sigh and choked out the last words, "I am an American Soldier."

He slowly fell to his knees into the floor and she fell with him. She held him there on the floor rubbing his sweaty head until the sunlight came through the half opened blinds over the window.


	5. A Fistful of Reasons

Story of the Second Son Chapter Five

A Fistful of Reasons

**SOMEWHERE IN THE GULF REGION 0600 HOURS  
SERGEANT GOREN WRITES IN A JOURNAL**

_ I was the kid brother. I was the tagalong. It was 1971 and I was fast approaching the double digits. Ten years old and I felt like I was becoming a man. I wanted to be like my big brother and I still wanted to be like my father at times. I started playing basketball more instead of baseball, I helped mom out at the library and the world seemed simple and wonderful. That naive view of the world wouldn't last long though. _

_ Mom was changing and had been for a few years. I could tell it was getting worse, whatever it was, Frank probably knew she was getting sicker but acted as if the problem wasn't there, dad just stayed gone. _

_ In 1971 he stayed gone for good. After a big fight one night about the way mom was acting he packed up his things, what little he had, and stormed out of our second floor apartment. I followed him down the stairs screaming at him the whole way. I chased his car all the way to the corner, still screaming, I don't even remember what I was yelling, words of contempt or words begging him to stay. Or maybe words of forgiveness or words of hate. _

_ I stood there in the middle of the street and watched his car drive away. It was the only car we had, from then on we took the bus. As the summer sun beat down on my back and stretched out my shadow in front of me, it created the illusion that I was bigger than I was, taller. But I think that day I felt the person inside of me grow and stretch to the same size. At eleven years old I was a different person._

_ Neighbors started to leak out of their dark air conditioned apartments to see what was going on. Why was this little boy screaming in the street? Why was this woman from the second floor apartment hanging out the window screaming, "Bobby! Bobby!" _

_ My feet felt like lead as I came back into the apartment. Mom was now a heap on the hot sticky linoleum floor. With the air out and the days events we were all drenched with sweat. Frank stood silently in our bedroom doorway and glared at me. I think he blamed me for all of this more than he blamed anybody, why I could never guess. _

_ On his way out the front door he punched me hard and dead center in my gut. I doubled over in silence but never hit the ground, I wouldn't lay on the linoleum like my mother. Not yet anyway. _

_ We didn't see Frank for four days. My mother didn't see reality for six. I haven't seen sanity in myself, not true quiet tranquility, in a long time. But I want to find it, I have a fistful of reasons to. _

_ I've got to go now though, convoy is about to leave. Mother would tell me to pray for no IEDs this trip, so for her I guess I will. Tomorrow I will write a letter to mom._

He boards the desert colored vehicle and heads off back into 'the shit'.

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**A/N: I haven't written for a very long time. I only have two CI fics and both are unfinished. This one and the ever popular "Fun Week." Both will be finished eventually. Hey I finally got another chapter on this thing, woo! After I finish these two I hope to write a casefile but I don't want to start something else I can't quite finish. So let me know what you think of this. Future chapters will include plenty of military stuff, for example; how he got his purple heart. Thanks everyone who reviews, it is extremely helpful. Oh and FYI, the title of this chapter was taken from an episode of "The Brady Bunch." A little throwback to "Endgame" and Mark Ford Brady. I imagine that show wasn't allowed on the tube much in the Goren household. I'm going to bring that up later as well. Anyway... :)**


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